


What He Lost

by Sarah_P42



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst and Feels, Death, Gen, Gore, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_P42/pseuds/Sarah_P42
Summary: Moblit Berner had no idea what he would face beyond the walls, and he gets a harsh dose of reality shoved down his throat when he sees what horrors the walls hide him from.





	What He Lost

_ I should’ve known better. _

 

He had seen the Scouting parties return from their expeditions. He had seen the dwindling numbers every time. He had been told that it was worse than he’d imagined it. He had still joined the Scouts, and even though he knew the risks, he had kept a naive and positive attitude, thinking that maybe, it would turn out alright. As a rookie who had never been outside the walls, it was easy to stay optimistic.

 

Oh, how he was wrong.

 

All Moblit Berner could think of as he watched his squad get devoured was how wrong he had been. Right in front of him, as he sat crumpled on his knees, a group of Titans gathered and feasted upon the troop of naive rookies who had thought everything would be alright.

 

Moblit wanted to rush in and help, he was  _ desperate  _ to do anything to save them, but all of his blades were dulled, and he was dangerously low on gas. He could run in, but it wouldn’t do anything for his comrades. All he could do was watch in utter horror and dread as his squad - no, his friends - were were being torn apart and ravaged like they were a Titans’ last meal. 

 

His whole body shook with dismay and disbelief. He wanted to move, but his mind and body knew better. He wanted to scream, but no sound escaped his lips. He wanted to cry, but no tears came. 

 

The ground was painted with brilliant and mortifying tones of red, with body parts and organs sprinkled on the soft earth. Screams of pain and terror echoed off the air, which was thick with malice and brutality. 

 

As the Titans finished off the last few bites of their snack, Moblit’s instinct kicked in, and he rose from his knees and bolted as far away from the Titans as he could. His horse was running towards him, and Moblit jumped on, sending the horse in a frightened gallop. 

 

He needed to get away… but where? Was there anywhere safe outside the walls? Where should he go? He had gotten split up from the rest of the formation, and he was hopelessly lost.

 

He finally decided on a destination. 

 

_ Anywhere but here _ . 

 

He needed to lay low, somewhere where the Titans couldn’t get him. He’d send out a smoke signal, and stay there. The horde of Titans that had gorged on his friends would find him eventually, and Moblit didn’t have anything to fight with.

 

Moblit needed to hide.

 

His horse stomped in the gore drenching the grass, flying through the carnage as swift as the wind. 

 

Moblit forced himself to look forward. If he looked back… No, he couldn't look back. He needed to take care of himself, and thinking about what he had just witnessed wouldn’t do any good. 

 

He didn’t see anyone around him as he spurted forward, but the sea of blood seemed to thicken around him. All he could hear were the sounds of hooves meeting the earth and the radical beat of his heart. 

 

As he got further out, Moblit saw a castle. It looked old, but sturdy and well fortified. He could seek refuge there until he was found. He managed to get inside the courtyard without a problem, and he slowed the horse down to a trot. As he approached, he fired a smoke signal, the colour indicating that he needed assistance. The Scouts would find him eventually.

 

While he would’ve been safe just in the courtyard, Moblit dismounted and tied his horse up to a pole, before entering the aged stone building. Why he did, he didn’t know. All he knew was that his body compelled him in that direction, even if his mind wasn’t focused on it. He wandered the halls until he found a room with a window looking out into the courtyard. 

 

Moblit leaned against the wall in the corner, right next to the window, and he sank down, slower than he thought possible. His body seemed to gain weight with every second, now that he wasn’t in imminent danger. He felt the strength leaving his body slowly, and the cave in his chest gaped wider and wider, deeper and deeper. 

 

As he felt the wooden floor beneath him, he completely lost it.

 

Moblit couldn’t tell what came first - the rushing river of tears down his blood stained cheeks, the wailing sobs from deep inside his throat, or the unbearable crushing of his heart. 

 

He was on his knees, his howls echoing off the old, worn out walls. There hadn’t been any tears in the moment, but now that he was alone, and he wasn’t in any life-threatening danger, his body finally gave into the despair. 

 

Moblit wept, and wept, and wept, unable to handle the pain any longer. All he could think of was the optimism of his friends, and how they were excited for their first mission beyond the walls. They had even made a deal with Moblit that when they returned from the expedition, they’d steal some meat from the kitchen and have a little feast to celebrate. 

 

Then an image of their final moments flashed into his memory, the wounds still fresh and stinging. 

 

What made things so much worse was that Moblit hadn’t been able to help. All he could’ve done was just sit there and watch. 

 

He thought of a million different endings, all with him saving his friends and them going back to their feast inside the walls.

 

But he hadn’t saved them. Through frail sobs, he cursed his existence, and whatever external force had kept him from helping them. If only he hadn’t been so reckless before… 

 

If only he had known…

 

Moblit kept on weeping, for how long he didn’t know. He coughed up the broken pieces of his heart and laid them out on the floor, where anybody could’ve seen them.

 

He couldn’t keep track of time, and after what felt like both an eternity and a split second of sorrow, the door creaked open.

 

Moblit’s wailing had ceased moments earlier and he could hear the voice coming from the door. “Is anyone in here?” 

 

Moblit looked up, blood and tears still streaked on his face. “Yes…?” His voice was weak and frail from all the crying and the fear. 

 

“It’s okay now, we’re going back,” the voice reassured him, the floor creaking as he approached. “Is there anyone with you?”

 

Moblit didn’t answer. Words failed him.

 

“Are you the only one?”

 

Words still falling flat, Moblit only nodded, staring at the man’s feet.

 

“Alright,” the man said, knowing what Moblit couldn’t say, “Your horse is still out front. Let’s go back home.”

 

Moblit didn’t say anything as he followed the Scout to the courtyard. He was still silent as they rode out and found the rest of the Scouts- how little men there were left. Moblit couldn’t speak as they entered the walls and rode through the streets. 

 

He didn’t cry, and he didn’t shake. If anything, he felt numb, and hollow. He just stared ahead of him, his body moving on its own. Words directed at him flew over his head or bounced off his skin. Most would say that Moblit looked and acted like a walking corpse.

 

The rest of day went by like a dream. He couldn’t remember anything that happened moments before, and he felt like he was just watching a show play in front his eyes. 

 

By the time the moon was rising in the dark blue sky, he couldn’t remember what there had been for dinner - or if he had even eaten dinner - or who he had seen while walking to his little apartment. 

 

He didn’t get changed, he didn’t wash up. Moblit just fell onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, going limp as soon as his body made contact with the mattress. It didn’t take long for his body to grow lethargic, and start to pull him into the flying river of sleep.

 

As he felt himself drift off down the stream, where he knew that horrors awaited him, Moblit felt another tear roll down his cheek. 

 

And then he was asleep, still replaying the memories of the day in his head as he was bombarded with awful imagery and horrors that before he hadn’t imagined he would ever face.


End file.
